Weasley's Wedding
by QuillsKnotDragons
Summary: It is the day of Ron and Hermione's wedding but things are far from running smoothly. Mr and Mrs Weasley get lost, Hagrid sits on the cake and Ron almost goes AWOL. Can Harry and Ginny get it together in time before Hermione walks down the aisle?
1. Ante Meridiem

Ante Meridiem

Dawn of the twenty-ninth of June was heralded by a clap of thunder. Harry Potter woke up, put on his glasses and groaned. During the night he had been too hot to sleep and had gotten up to open the window. Rain, falling at just the wrong angle, was pouring slantways into the bedroom and onto Harry's legs. The curtains Ginny had chosen, now limp and pathetic, flapped wetly and the carpet was several shades darker where it was absorbing a puddle of rainwater. With a squelching noise, Harry got up and closed the window. Great. Wet sheets.

"Morning."

A dressing-gown-clad Ginny had appeared in the doorway, bleary-eyed but smiling. She bounced the baby on her hip and dragged the back of her hand across her eyes. "He wouldn't settle down. I've been up since five." She kissed the little boy's dark hair.

"It's t-t-tempting to put a Silencing Charm on him," yawned Harry, peeling his wet pyjama shirt off and dropping it in the nearby laundry basket.

"Daddy's only joking. He doesn't mean it," Ginny whispered in her son's ear, then looked coolly at her half-dressed husband. "I might put a Silencing Charm on you," she threatened. "You snore so loudly it's no wonder you never hear him in the night!" She watched Harry pull on a fresh shirt from the wardrobe and sighed. "Can't you stay home with him today? Do you have to go to work?"

"Yes," said Harry, grabbing some dark-coloured robes off the hanger. "At least I have the afternoon off," he pointed out. "Plenty of time before the wedding at three."

"Poor Hermione," said Ginny, peering outside at the rolling grey clouds which hung heavily over Godric's Hollow. "She was so hoping for good weather."

James hiccupped and began to wail again, and Ginny grimaced.

"There's no need for that," Harry said quickly, swooping on James and catching him up into his arms. "You're just hungry, aren't you? Come on, breakfast-time!"

"Did you have an accident, Harry?" asked Ginny suddenly, eyeing the wet curtains and carpet next to Harry's side of the bed. "What is that?"

"Nothing," said Harry quickly, pulling out his wand and using a speedy Hot-Air Charm before Ginny could tease him about it.

The three Potters went down to the kitchen and Harry strapped James into his highchair. He bewitched little toy dragons and hippogriffs to chase each other round James's head; the baby gurgled with laughter and reached chubby hands up to grab them.

"Toast, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"It's okay, I'll do it," Harry said quickly. "You sit down and rest."

Ginny was capable of executing a perfect Wronski Feint on the Quidditch pitch, pulling her broomstick up mere inches from the ground. She could cast a Bat-Bogey Hex so powerful that anyone within five metres of her victim could find themselves with green winged creatures flying out of their noses. She could, and often would, cheer Harry up after a difficult day at work so that within five minutes of walking through the front door, he would be crying with laughter. But Ginny was a hopeless cook. If it was possible to burn a cup of tea, Ginny would.

Harry laid the table around his wife, who was now composing a quick note to Hermione to say she would be along to help with the wedding preparations as soon as possible, and buttered the toast.

He mashed up a banana and gave it to his one-year-old, who did not seem to mind the unappetising mush. "What are you writing?" he asked Ginny, leaning over to see what she was writing.

"Go away, nosy," she laughed, giving him a push.

Suddenly, a large commotion erupted in the small kitchen. Harry turned in time to see James brandish his plastic spoon far too exuberantly. A glob of mashed banana soared through the air and spattered Clyde, the family barn owl's left wing.

"Honestly, you take your eyes off him for one second!" shouted Harry, as Clyde ricocheted madly off the walls, hooting angrily.

James whooped with laughter until his mother wrenched the spoon from his grasp, then he changed his mind and burst into stormy sobs instead. Harry struggled to catch Clyde, eventually resorting to throwing Owl Treats into the corner to distract the agitated owl from zooming around the room at high speed. Harry caught Clyde, cleaned his feathers of any trace of banana, and tipped half a box of Owl Treats on to the top of the fridge to pacify him.

"Merlin's beard," laughed Ginny, trying to calm James down.

"I need a cup of tea after that," Harry gasped.

The young couple exchanged glances and laughed; James, seeing his parents smiling, stopped crying and held out his arms to be picked up.

 _Crack_.

A loud popping sound disturbed the Potters' domestic bliss, and Ron materialised in the middle of the kitchen.

Ron had never observed the normal custom of politely knocking at their door and neither Harry nor Ginny really minded, but at the loud noise, James started crying again. "For goodness' sake, Ron!" Ginny said, exasperated.

"Are you alright, mate?" Harry asked, after glancing twice at his best friend's pale face. Ron looked positively queasy.

"What if I do something wrong?" Ron choked out.

Harry understood immediately, and clapped Ron on the back. "You won't," he said reassuringly. "Nothing will go wrong." He noticed that Ron had neglected to shave that morning; his chin was covered with red stubble, and it made him look unkempt and ragged.

"It's not like you have to do much," Ginny said unhelpfully. "You just have to stand there in dress robes and say 'I do' when you're told. Oh, and try not to screw up your vow."

"Merlin's beard," gulped Ron, his eyes wide and traumatised. "Everyone's going to be watching-"

"You love Hermione, don't you?" said Ginny, releasing James from his highchair. Ron nodded. He sunk weakly down into a chair pulled up at the table. "Then it'll be easy," she said brightly. "Here, maybe holding a baby will help."

She unceremoniously dumped James into his uncle's lap. Ron, who was usually very good at making his many nieces and nephews laugh, stared at James as though he had grown another head.

"Can I go into the office with you, Harry?" he asked hopefully.

Harry laughed. "You can't work on your wedding day, mate!" he said. "Have you also forgotten that you left the Auror office three years ago to work with George in the shop?"

"Oh," said Ron glumly. "Yeah."

He stood up suddenly, passed James back to his sister, and Disapparated without another word.

"We really must teach him to use a door," said Ginny.

"I hope he's alright," Harry said. "Hermione will kill him if he gets cold feet."

"Any bride would," Ginny pointed out, and grinned. "You're lucky I sent you reminder owls every ten minutes on our wedding day."

"Yeah. _Lucky_ ," Harry bit a corner off his slice of toast and raised an eyebrow. "Not only did I turn up," he said. "But I was _on time_. I seem to recall _you_ were half an hour late. You could have done with a few 'reminder owls' for yourself."

Ginny laughed carelessly. "Make sure you're home from the office with plenty of time to spare," she said. "You're the best man. You can't be late today either."

"Don't worry," said Harry. "I doubt work will be too busy."

"Your dress robes will be laid out on our bed," said Ginny. "Get changed and Apparate to the hotel. That's where everyone's getting ready before going to the church for the ceremony."

"Have a good day," Harry said, bending down to kiss his son on the head. "And I'll see you later."

He kissed Ginny goodbye, picked up his briefcase and Disapparated.

* * *

Meanwhile, several miles south, Hermione was just waking up to the ringing of her alarm clock. She automatically reached an arm out for Ron, but only found a crisp pillow-case and empty sheets.

"Wedding!" Hermione gasped, sitting up suddenly. She sat there for a few moments, listening to her alarm go off, feeling excitement fizz through every inch of her body. She was getting married today.

Nervily, Hermione rolled over and turned her alarm off, checking the clock. It was half-past eight in the morning. There was so much to do and double-check. Hermione and her parents had arrived at the hotel the night before, whilst Ron had gone back to his parents' house. He had initially wanted to stay in Harry and Ginny's spare room, but the idea of a night trying to sleep with a restless one-year-old in the next room had quickly put him off.

Hermione jumped out of bed and threw open the curtains. The sun was feebly trying to break through the typical clouds of the English summer, and Hermione took a minute to silently pray the weather would brighten. She hurried over to the hotel desk containing a sewing-kit, a hairdryer, April's issue of _Which Wedding, Witch?_ magazine, and her notepad entitled _Weasley-Granger Wedding Plans_. She was just scribbling _find emergency umbrellas_ at the bottom of her extensive to-do list when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in," she called, throwing a hotel dressing-gown over her pyjamas.

Mrs Granger entered carrying a breakfast-laden tray.

"Mum," Hermione greeted her mother with a smile, taking the tray from her.

"How do you feel, darling?" Mrs Granger asked.

"Fine," Hermione said briskly. "Great."

It was rare that she felt nervous or unsure about anything so how could she put into words the butterflies in her stomach or the lump in her throat?

"Make sure you eat a good breakfast, love," Mrs Granger said fondly. "The guests start arriving just after lunch and we have the morning to get ready."

"I will, Mum," Hermione promised.

"Well, I won't keep you," said Mrs Granger, giving her daughter a brief hug. "Your father and I are just in the next room if you need anything."

"Thanks," said Hermione, as the door closed behind her mum.

She spent the next hour eating breakfast and calling her Muggle relatives in Australia who could not attend the wedding. In a way it was a blessing they lived so far away because they would not have been able to come to the wizarding reception and she may have offended them. Hermione enjoyed a hot bath, washing her hair twice and using three times as much soap than usual.

Wrapping herself in a white fluffy dressing-gown, she sat herself down at her desk. She ripped a page of parchment out of her notebook and fished a quill out of her suitcase. Halfway through writing a note to Ron, she heard a tapping on the window. Looking over, she saw Clyde, the Potters' owl, perched on the windowsill. There was letter tied to his leg. Hermione fell of her chair in her hurry to let Clyde in.

She quickly scanned the letter in Ginny's curly handwriting: _Will be with you as soon as I've dropped James off at my parents' and gone to Madam Malkin's for our dresses. I think the shop opens at ten. G x_ Hermione glanced at the clock, which read quarter past ten.

There was a loud popping sound; Hermione turned round to see Ginny flop onto her bed, clutching two long, wide packages on hangers. "I've been up for hours," she gasped. "It feels like I've run all over the place."

Hermione grinned at her; Ginny jumped up and threw her arms around her. "But, more importantly, how are you?"

"Great," said Hermione, then she made a face. "I don't really know what to do with myself, if I'm honest."

"Don't worry, I'm here," laughed Ginny. "We have witches from that posh hair place in Hogsmeade coming soon, don't we? Parvati will be along soon to do our makeup too. You'll be rushed off your feet soon, trust me."

Hermione smiled. "Luna offered to do my makeup, but I asked to decorate the reception room with Neville, Hannah, George and Angelina instead."

"Wise decision," Ginny smiled. "You might have ended up with lime-green eyeshadow and magenta lipstick otherwise." She shrugged. "At least you're not short of willing volunteers."

"Have you seen Ron this morning?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," said Ginny, thinking it best not to worry Hermione by telling her the truth about the state she had seen Ron in. She had not seen him at The Burrow either when she left James with her mother.

"I was just about to send him a note," said Hermione, nodding towards the desk.

"He'd like that," said Ginny quickly, and caught sight of Clyde hopping around on the armchair. "Oh, I thought I might beat the owl." She laughed into the story of James' and Clyde's antics that morning and Harry diving around the kitchen trying to catch him.

Hermione laughed.

"Coo-ee!" said Mrs Granger, popping her head round the door. "Oh, hello, Ginny!"

"Hi, Mrs Granger," said Ginny brightly.

"Darling, two ladies have just appeared rather suddenly in our room," she said, sounding a little bewildered. "They gave your father quite a shock as he was changing at the time-"

She opened the door a little wider to reveal two women, who were obviously magical, both wearing shocking-pink robes. The taller woman had a tower of egg-yolk-yellow curls balanced n top on her head and the dumpier of the two was sporting a complicated lilac up-do upon which an ornamental dove was dreamily flapping its wings. When they saw Hermione, they bustled past Mrs Granger, exclaiming delightedly about what a beautiful bride Hermione was going to be when they were done with her.

"I'll leave you to it then," Mrs Granger said weakly, but no one seemed to hear her.

"Is there any reason why no one is bothering to hide magic round here?" Ginny asked in Hermione's ear, as the two hair-witches set up their equipment and made themselves quite at home. "Bit of a bummer if we were all arrested by the Ministry on your wedding day."

"You remember Anthony Goldstein in our year?" said Hermione, looking surprised. "The Ravenclaw. His family own this hotel, didn't you know? They've split the whole place in half; one side for Muggles and one side for wizards and witches. The Muggles never know, of course – and we've been given a discount from Anthony."

"The fame from saving the entire wizarding – and Muggle – world has to be advantageous sometimes," smiled Ginny.

She sat down in the chair the dove-adorned witch was offering her, and wondered how much she trusted these witches to let them loose on her hair, given the state of their own.

The tall hair-witch poured almost an entire bottle of Sleakeazy's Hair Potion into Hermione's bushy hair and gleefully rubbed her hands together. Ginny took a deep breath and pulled her ponytail out. She prayed she would still have hair left on her head once they were finished.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading this first chapter!**

 **I really hope you enjoyed it – if you did (or didn't), please leave me a review to let me know!**


	2. Harry's Haste

Harry's Haste

"For goodness' sake, Turner!" Harry said, rifling through yet another waist-high stack of files. "I was holding that report in my hand only yesterday! Where has it gone?"

Turner just shrugged unhelpfully and disappeared back into his cubicle, not showing Harry half the respect he deserved as Deputy Head of Department.

"Maybe he ate it," Kenneth Bagnold called from Harry's neighbouring cubicle.

"Hestia wants the report on her desk by the end of the day and I'm leaving at twelve," said Harry stressily, throwing a roll of parchment aside. He would have to deal with Turner later.

"Wife can't survive without you, eh?" chuckled Bagnold.

"Wedding," Harry murmured, fishing the report out of a folder. " _Aha_!"

"Oh, would it be Ron and Hermione's wedding you're going to?" Bagnold asked. "I saw Rita Skeeter's article in the Prophet yesterday."

"Yeah," said Harry. He double-checked the report, signed his name at the bottom of the parchment, glanced at the photo of Ginny stuck to his cubicle-wall and went to knock on the Head Auror's office door.

"Potter," said Hestia Jones, nodding as he walked in. "Good. I was hoping you'd give me that early." Harry handed her the file and went to leave. "Give my congratulations to Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, won't you? I wish I could have accepted their invitation but I really couldn't leave the office now. We're so busy." Hestia called as he reached the door.

"I'll pass it on," promised Harry, smiling as he left.

Now that the weight of the report was off his shoulders, Harry felt much lighter. He joked with his colleagues as he passed them and had to duck several interdepartmental memos as they came soaring over his head.

"Mr Potter, sir," the newest apprentice to join the Auror office, fresh out of Hogwarts, ran up to Harry, reminding him an awful lot of an overeager twelve-year-old Hermione. "You have a visitor, sir," he said breathlessly.

"A visitor?" repeated Harry, rather bemused. Who on earth would be visiting him at this time?

"Yes, sir."

Harry went straight back to his cubicle and saw, leaning backwards on the chair, was Ron. He still had not shaved yet and his cheeks were very pale, but he looked cheerfully up at Harry when he came into view.

" _Ron_!" Harry exclaimed. "Go away. What are you doing here?"

Ron's face fell. "Thought you might be needing some help," he mumbled.

"Ron, you don't work here anymore," Harry said, as though he was talking to a child.

"I know-" said Ron, looking crestfallen and confused.

"You should be getting ready," Harry scolded. "I'll be with you in about an hour. Go, get dressed."

"Harry," said Ron, in a very quiet voice. "I don't know if I can do this." He looked utterly pitiful.

"Ron! Now is not a good time to figure out you have commitment issues!" said Harry. "At three o' clock, Hermione will be walking down a church aisle in a big puffy white dress, expecting you to be at the other end waiting for her."

Ron's already ashen face blanched even whiter. "Air- need some- air-" he said, and Disapparated.

Harry sighed and wasted the next hour trying to while away the time before he could go home and sort his best friend out.

"Harry, you're making it hail," Kenneth Bagnold said, looking over the cubicle divider. "Something on your mind?"

Harry, who had been twiddling his wand, looked up. He had amassed a personal thundercloud above him, which was flashing with lightning and dropping tiny lumps of ice all over his desk.

"No," he lied. "Kenneth, can you tell Hestia that I'm done for the day?"

"Sure," said Bagnold obligingly. "See you, Harry."

Harry, after going down in the elevator at the end of the Level Two corridor and Disapparating out of the Atrium, saw that his thundercloud wasn't too far away from the actual weather. He Apparated into his hallway and saw that, in Godric's Hollow at least, it was bright sunshine outside.

Checking his watch to see that it was twelve o' clock, Harry pounded up the stairs of his empty house, dropped his briefcase over the bannister into the hall and quickly changed into his dress robes, which were a dark-blue to match Ron's. From there, he Apparated straight to the Burrow's kitchen, startling Mrs Weasley, who had been pouring tea.

"Harry, dear," she smiled affectionately at him as she cleaned up the mess with her wand. "I didn't know you were dropping in to see us. Are you staying for lunch?"

"I was looking for Ron," said Harry, dropping a kiss on his excited son's head. "Is he here?"

"I'm afraid not," said Mrs Weasley. "He left after breakfast. We assumed he was with you or George. He seemed a little tense this morning though."

"Oh, I must have missed him at the hotel," said Harry quickly, keeping his voice calm and reassuring. There was no need to concern Mrs Weasley just yet.

"We're very excited," Mrs Weasley told him.

"How are you getting there?" asked Harry.

"By Portkey," Mrs Weasley said. "Arthur asked Kingsley if he could authorise one especially for us today. I don't want to Apparate with a one-year-old, you see," she gazed lovingly at her gurgling grandson. "Flying isn't an option and I thought going by the Floo Network might scare him."

Harry chose not to mention that he and James had travelled multiple times by Floo Powder already and the toddler had not even flinched when the emerald flames roared above their heads. "You have James's robes, don't you?" Harry checked instead.

Once Mrs Weasley nodded, he quickly said goodbye and took his leave of the Weasley family home. So _where_ exactly was Ron?

He Apparated to the Goldstein Hotel where the reception was being held. Mr and Mrs Goldstein, once they had spotted him, were extremely accommodating and very helpful. 'A little _too_ helpful,' Harry thought, as he posed for yet another photo with Mr Goldstein.

"Dad," said Anthony, appearing from the doorway of the manager's office and hurrying over to rescue Harry. "Leave him alone." He held out his hand. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi, it's good to see you again," Harry said, shaking his former classmate's hand.

"Just one more autograph?" Mrs Goldstein asked.

" _No_ , Mum," said Anthony firmly.

"Do you know where Ron is?" asked Harry.

"I think he said he was going to help decorate," said Anthony, guiding Harry through a pair of double doors and into a grand and very beautiful hall.

"Harry, we were beginning to think you'd forgotten us," said George Weasley, his arms full of self-inflating golden balloons. Harry wondered if George had swapped any of the balloons from the joke decoration range at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Or that you'd lost your way," called Neville, who was red in the face from the exertion of carrying tables and chairs to and fro as his wife directed him.

Angelina Johnson, George's girlfriend, was Levitating a banner over the entrance doors through which Harry had just come, which spelled out _Ron and Hermione – Newlyweds_ in foot-high maroon letters. Luna, meanwhile, was sat on the carpet in the middle of the hall, surrounded by hundreds of Butterbeer corks, great quantities of plum-coloured ribbon, several open bags of Fizzing Whizbees and a basket of dandelions which looked as though they had been recently picked from the roadside. After watching her for a few moments, Harry managed to figure out that she was creating wedding favours of a very Lunaish kind. Hannah Longbottom seemed to be the most practical worker of those in the room; she was laying the table, polishing the silverware, rearranging the flowers of the centrepieces and neatening the tablecloths all at the same time.

Harry stood there, observing this little hive of activity. The room was lovely; a high-ceilinged grand hall with one wall which seemed to be entirely composed of windows stretching from the rich carpet all the way up to the painted ceiling. Harry could see the wet lawn outside and the rolling green hills beyond. From the amount of fragile cream chairs being arranged around the large circular tables, Harry roughly counted eighty guests. Hermione had not wanted a flashy, glamourous, star-spangled wedding attended by every Tom, Dick and Harry of the wizarding world.

"You're the only Harry I'll let in," she had said. "I don't want Rita Skeeter writing any more rubbish about us in that celebrity-spotter column she does nowadays."

"Hey, Harry," called George. "Are you going to stand there gawping like a lemon or are you going to help us?"

"Lemons don't gawp," Harry called back.

"Holy snitch!" Neville grunted, wrestling with a table which had a dodgy leg. He extracted his wand and began to Levitate the troublesome table into place.

"Watch yourself, Neville!" Harry said, as a stray chair flew past his left ear.

"Sorry!" groaned Neville.

"I've got it," called Angelina, hurrying over to him with her wand raised.

"Actually, George," said Harry, going over to him. "Have you seen Ron recently? He's not at the Burrow where he should be getting ready."

George shook his head. "The groom hasn't done a runner, has he?"

"I hope not," Harry murmured.

"Hullo all!" a familiar voice boomed from the doorway.

"Hagrid!"

Friendly calls and raised hands greeted Hagrid's beaming face as me marched into the room. "Hullo Harry!"

"What've you got in that box, Hagrid?" Harry asked, as Hagrid carefully set the enormous white box he had been carrying down on the gift-table.

"The cake," he replied proudly. "'Ermione trusted me to get it." (Harry was silently very thankful that Hagrid, who had not improved at cooking over the years, hadn't baked the cake himself.) "How are yer, Harry?"

"Fantastic," said Harry brightly. "Sorry, Hagrid, I'll come and find you later. I have to go and have a chat with Ginny."

"See yer, Harry."

"You flake!" George shouted after him.

Harry ran through the entrance hall, quickly got Hermione's room number from Anthony, and took the stairs three at a time. When he knocked on the door, it was immediately opened by a woman with a tower of curls on her head in an alarming shade of yellow. Startled, he lowered his hand and smiled uncertainly at her.

"Bless my soul, it's Harry Potter in the flesh!" she twittered, turning round to call over her shoulder. "Linda, he's actually here-!"

"Harry," said Ginny, appearing, to his great relief, before Linda could join the first woman. "You can't see the bride before she's ready," she said, slipping out of the room and closing the door in the hair-witch's face. "What's up?" she asked, then she grinned. "You shine up fairly nicely, y'know."

Harry couldn't resist smiling. "You don't look so bad yourself," he shrugged. In fact, he thought Ginny was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was in her maid-of-honour outfit; a slinky, silky pale-blue dress with matching heels. Her red hair had been artfully twisted into an elegant bun on the back of her head and secured with pearl pins leaving strands to fall, oh so casually, down to the nape of her neck.

"How's Ron?" she asked.

Harry hesitated, and made a face. "-I'm not too sure," he admitted.

"You've lost him?!"

"I never had him," said Harry. "You saw what he was like this morning."

"I thought that was just nerves," Ginny said.

"So did I, until he showed up at work looking white as a sheet," said Harry.

"He did what?" Ginny's face creased into a concerned frown. "But where is he now? If he's disappeared without telling anybody where he's going, that really isn't good."

"What should I do?" asked Harry. "Where do I begin to look for him?"

Ginny thought for a moment. "Go to his flat," she said. "They're in the middle of selling, of course, but it's still home to him. If not, check the shop."

"And if he's not there?"

"Come back here. There's no point panicking about it yet," said Ginny sensibly. "The most important thing is that Hermione doesn't find out that Ron has disappeared."

"Agreed."

Harry kissed his wife on the cheek and Apparated out of the hotel. Arriving in Diagon Alley with a pop, he immediately set off to Ron's flat. It was a poky little affair on the third floor above Flouish and Blotts. Harry, ignoring the stares and smiles he was receiving from all around, ducked down a narrow side-alley. The stairs to Ron's flat were narrow and precarious, and Harry, instead of risking a broken leg, Apparated to the top of them. A big red ' _Sold_ ' sign had been pasted across Ron's front door. Harry rung the bell. There was no reply so he leaned down and shouted through the letterbox.

"Ron! Are you in there? It's me, Harry, let me in!"

Still, no one answered.

Harry took out his wand. " _Alohomora_ ," he said, pointing it at the lock. He pushed the front door open and crossed the threshold. The tiny hall was filled with cardboard boxes, and Harry knew he could expect the same in the rooms beyond.

"Hello?" he called, shuffling along the wall. "Ron?

Harry shivered. It was creepy in the silent little flat without furniture or music blaring or any of Ron's things scattered around. Ron had bought the place to be closer to the shop, and had harboured hopes of turning it into a flashy bachelor pad. Hermione had always hated it, of course, and the day after they got engaged, she had them out house-hunting.

Harry checked every empty room, just in case, before he left, locking the front door behind him. He strode down Diagon Alley, not caring about the rain soaking his hair and his robes. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, painted bright orange, shone out of the greyness.

The shop had been shut for the day, but its windows were still alive with all manner of crazy and colourful products. Harry tried the door, which was locked, and knocked on the glass. Verity, George's long-time assistant came out of the back office. When she saw Harry, she smiled and hurried to unlock the door.

"Hi, is Ron here?" Harry asked immediately.

Verity let him in, out of the rain. She shook her head. "I haven't seen Mr Weasley all day," she said. "He's at his wedding, isn't he?"

Harry looked at her. He knew she could be trusted to be discreet. "No," he said. "That's the problem. He's gone off without telling anyone where he's going."

Verity's kind face immediately looked anxious. "I wish I could help," she said.

"If you see him, will you let me know?" said Harry.

"If I find him, I'll bring him over myself," Verity promised. "You're at the Goldstein Hotel, is that right?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I don't need to tell you, of course, that we wouldn't want Rita Skeeter, or anyone else for that matter, getting wind of this."

"Not even if I was under the Imperious Curse," promised Verity firmly.

Harry smiled. "I'll see you later, Verity."

"Bye, Harry."

Harry decided to pop into The Leaky Cauldron, hoping to see Ron hunched over a pint of Firewhiskey at the bar, but the stools were empty.

Tom, the barman, hailed him. "'Arry Potter!" he called. "Hullo! What will I be a-making yer?"

"Nothing, thanks, Tom," Harry replied. "Just looking for someone, that's all."

He raised one hand in farewell and Disapparated, arriving just outside Hermione's hotel room.

He knocked, and Ginny opened. "Hi, Harry," she said loudly, in Hermione's earshot. "All good?" Harry shook his head and Ginny cursed under her breath. "Damn. No luck."

"I looked everywhere for him," Harry whispered.

"Then we go to Plan B."

"What _is_ Plan B?"

Ginny sighed. "We don't have one, but we're going to have to improvise a Plan C, D, E, F and G if needs be."

"I'll go downstairs," said Harry. "And see if anyone else can guess, or knows, where he might be."

"Harry, you know what will happen if we can't find him?" said Ginny.

"I don't even want to imagine it," said Harry darkly.

"Just make sure it doesn't become a reality," Ginny warned.

Harry ran down the flights of stairs to the entrance hall, hoping he wouldn't be confronted by Mr and Mrs Goldstein again, who would hinder his progress. The lobby was empty so he hurried towards the pair of white double doors through which was the hall where Ron and Hermione were due to wed in under two hours. He threw them open, but froze in his tracks.

The scene that met Harry's eyes stunned him into silence. With all the stress of the last hour, it was the very last thing he needed to see.

* * *

 **I hope you have enjoyed this story so far. Please leave me a review to let me know what you like and what you don't. Thanks!**


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